


Forest for the Trees

by thesaddestboner



Series: in the shadows [11]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Detroit Tigers, Gen, Gender or Sex Swap, No Plot/Plotless, Non-Famous Family Members As Characters, Not Beta Read, Overthinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 20:32:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Max and Emily have a conversation about “Erica.”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forest for the Trees

**Author's Note:**

> Found this in my unfinished crap folder and thought I’d polish it up and post it. It's old. Like, I think I literally started this two years ago. lol at me.
> 
> I guess this could technically fit anywhere in the [girl!Porcello ’verse](http://archiveofourown.org/series/5815), but I’d probably place it after [You could turn and stay](http://archiveofourown.org/works/144618) and before [Pull me out from inside](http://archiveofourown.org/works/297953).
> 
> I think I’m pretty much just writing these bits and pieces for myself now, but whatevs. Someday I will finish this ’verse. Someday.
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

“Does she ever smile?”

“What?” Max looks up from his iPhone and the intense game of Words With Friends he’s playing with his brother, confused. He feels like he’s stumbled into someone else’s conversation, gotten caught in the crossfire.

Emily, Verlander’s girlfriend, is looking at him expectantly as she taps her foot on the tiles, rapid fire— _taptaptaptaptap_ —and waits for him to answer her. 

Somewhere, an indiscernible voice drones on the PA system, announcing flight delays. The low roar of airport noise gets deep into Max’s bones, so deep that he can feel it buzzing faintly.

“ _Erica_ ,” Emily says, rolling her eyes at him. “She always looks so _sour_.”

Max glances over his shoulder. Rick’s examining a spinning rack of touristy postcards and picks one out to peer closely at it. Max looks back at Emily. “What are you talking about?”

“Never mind. You wouldn’t see it, anyways,” Emily says, shifting her purse strap up her shoulder. She reaches into her purse, pulls out a pair of oversized sunglasses that she slides onto her face and tucks a few loose strands of dark hair behind her ear.

“Why’s that?” Max persists, tucking his iPhone in his pocket. He’s suddenly very interested—in spite of himself—in Emily’s theory.

“You can’t see the forest for the trees,” she says, tugging the sunglasses down to look him over. “You’re too close.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

Max feels clueless and he hates it. He prides himself on being one step ahead of the game, on analysis and probability and percentages. He prides himself on knowing, and he hasn’t really known much of anything since Rick showed up on his doorstep that winter.

“It’s like when you... just start seeing someone and everything is new and wonderful,” Emily says, slipping her sunglasses back on and flipping her long black hair out of her face. “Everything is so great. But when you step back after a little bit, you start to see all the cracks.”

Max frowns. “I don’t think I like what you’re inferring here.”

“I’m not inferring anything. I’m just saying,” Emily says, sighing. “She just doesn’t seem very happy.”

-

After the conversation with Emily, Max finds himself watching Rick more closely, looking for signs of depression. He feels stupid admitting to himself that he hadn’t even stopped to consider Rick might be unhappy. It seems glaringly obvious now, though, and he’s almost angry with himself for missing the signs. Who _wouldn’t_ be depressed after something like this? 

Sometimes Max wonders what he might do if he were put in Rick’s position, if he lost everything. He’d like to think he’d be able to seal off all the bad feelings and tuck them away where they can’t get to him, but he really doesn’t know what he’s capable of. He’s never _had_ to deal with the kind of loss Rick has and he never will, God willing.

Eventually, Rick notices him being weird and finally calls him out on it.

“You’re being weird,” Rick says. “What’s going on?”

They’re in bed, curled toward each other but not quite touching, like a pair of parentheses. Letterman or Leno or whoever is on the TV, but Max isn’t really paying attention. Rick’s hair tickles under Max’s nose and he lifts a hand to brush it away.

“I’m—what? I’m not being weird,” Max says, looping a curl of Rick’s hair around his index finger.

“You haven’t said a word in over an hour. You’re thinking too much,” Rick says. Max isn’t looking at him but he can practically hear Rick roll his eyes in exasperation.

Max leaves a hand tangled loosely in Rick’s hair. “I’m not. I’m just...” He sighs. “I had a conversation with Emily a few days ago. I guess I’ve been turning it over in my head ever since.”

Rick shifts in bed next to him and the back of his hand brushes down Max’s arm as he reaches down to pull the covers up. “About what?” he asks, his tone deceptively casual. Max can tell because Rick’s tone is calm, but his spine is rigid and his jaw is clenched.

“Emily said... You’re not happy, are you? I mean, that’s a stupid question, of course you’re not. But... I don’t know, is there anything I can do?”

Rick looks down and runs his hands over the comforter. “I’m as fine as I can be, considering.”

“I’m sorry I hadn’t really been paying attention,” Max admits, cheeks growing hot with shame.

“You’ve got your own thing going on,” Rick says, waving a hand dismissively. 

“Maybe if I’d noticed I could’ve—” Max tries, but Rick shuts him up with a hard look, his jaw set.

“If I need your help, I’ll ask for it,” he says, not unkindly.

Max looks down at Rick’s hands, clasped loosely in his lap. They’re smaller now, obviously, but still callused in the right places, from years of gripping a baseball. Max is grateful for those calluses right then. He wants to take Rick’s hand and tell him everything will be okay, but something inside him tightens around his chest and won’t let him reach out. 

“Okay,” Max says. He offers Rick a smile.

Rick looks away but slides his hand over, lacing his fingers loosely with Max’s.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


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